Important Days

It’s on these big, important days when I miss the kids the most. When asked why it happens, I just shrug. But in the weeks leading up to this birthday every image seems to trigger a memory of what used to be.

For twelve years we gathered for a group shot on my birthday. There will be no picture this year. There will be no celebration without them.

I’ve been told I’m being ridiculous. Living in the past. Being overly sentimental. My lack of response gives a hint as to the devastation. From my open wound I am unable to defend my sorrow.

So I bask in the tears.

And on these days I live with my memories.

A few people will tell me I should be happy for what was. With all due respect, I say, “fuck off.” Don’t spout that wisdom today. Of course I know I should count my blessings. It has become my mantra. But not today, please, not today.

Right now my only solace is learning empathy for those that have also lost the ones they love.

How do you carry on?

Especially on these big, important days.

 

 

  • Lin

    Well, you have lost the biggest part of your “family”. Why would anyone expect you not to grieve this loss?? Of course you can count your blessings, and think of the good memories. But that doesn’t lessen the your sense of loss and pain. Sending you a big (HUG)!

  • A hard one for sure Tricia. I have no words that could even come close to helping you feel better so instead I’m sending you love and light and hopefully, some laughter in the near future.
    Denise

  • Jen

    I’m so sorry, Tricia. No one knows how this feels except you. Sometimes life is amazing, and sometimes it sucks balls. xo

  • Deb

    The incredible pain of living. There really are no words.

  • Tara

    Sometimes grief is like peripheral vision. When we try to look straight at it, it doesn’t help. When we rest our gaze on what is right in front of us, if we remember, we can connect with the periphery too.

    Isn’t it that we want to “feel” again? We want some tenderness, joy, connection in our life? More than one grieving person has told me that some semblance of joy came through small things like the smell of an early summer morning, the feel of a gentle cool breeze, the sound of birds singing even before day light, an unexpected smile from a stranger passing by or the juiciness of a cherry.

    It is very humbling and very human.

    • So true. The art of being human.